


A Long and Restless Summer

by pumpkinpasties



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-10 20:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11134008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpasties/pseuds/pumpkinpasties
Summary: Rose Weasley runs into Scorpius Malfoy the summer after they graduate from Hogwarts. She's got time to kill, and he's in need of a friend. Who knows where their adventures will lead them? And how will their fathers react when they find out about this new friendship?





	1. Bored Beginnings

Rose sighed and set down her book — some Muggle romance on her mother’s bookshelf — and gazed out the window to the empty, quiet street before her. It was mid-morning on a weekday after all, and her parents were both at work. Hugo was on a camping trip with Lily, Fred, and Roxanne.

 

And Albus, who had graduated from Hogwarts two weeks ago alongside Rose, had gone on a tour of Europe with the money he’d received as a gift from his parents.

 

Rose, on the other hand, was stuck at her parents’ home like some child. The highlight of her days was having dinner with her parents, and listening to her father rant about the Chudley Cannons’ last fumble on the pitch. She was becoming rather pathetic.

 

It wasn’t as though Rose could even occupy herself with job applications and interviews. She’d secured a fellowship at St. Mungo’s months before graduation. The problem was that it wouldn’t start until autumn, which meant that Rose had an entire four months to sit around and do absolutely nothing.

 

Rose didn’t do well with idle time.

 

She stood up for a moment, then sat down and opened the book again. Then she stood up again, running a hand through her messy red hair.

 

“I need to get out of here,” she muttered under her breath. Was this how crazy people started talking to themselves? Would she be raving in the middle of Diagon Alley soon, wearing a crisps bag on her head and claiming that she was the Queen of England?

 

She _really_ did not want to risk it coming to that.

 

***

 

Ten minutes later, Rose appeared with a pop in an obscure alley in muggle London. She’d tied her hair up into a bun, put on a light blue sundress, and packed a tote bag with her keys, wallet, wand, parchment and quill, and a cannister of pepper spray.

 

Sure, she could always hex the socks off of anyone who tried to attack her, but one could never be _too_ prepared.

 

The day was hot and bright, and Rose was glad that she’d remembered to bring a wide-brimmed hat. She didn’t need any more freckles on her face.

 

As she stepped into the main street and joined the crowds, she felt her mood lift. This was far better than being cooped up at home with only her own thoughts for company.

 

Rose spent the first two hours at an adorable cafe, where she drank glass after glass of iced coffee and wrote down some of her observations from people-watching. When she reread the notes, she had to admit that she would never be a lyrical poet.

 

_Man with huge honker sitting with rather lovely wife with tiny button nose. How will their children turn out, I wonder? Will they have perfectly sized noses? Large noses with an upturn at the end? Tiny noses with improbably gaping nostrils?_

 

 _There are a lot of muggles with tattooed on eyebrows and eyeliner. Most of them look horrendous_ — _like cartoon witches from telly. What do they do if they regret it? There’s no Tattoo-Begone in the muggle world, is there?_

 

_Merlin, I wonder if you can levitate after drinking too much coffee. I feel a bit fizzy, but not in a good way. Maybe it’s time to cut myself off…_

 

She was beginning to feel jittery — and besides, the waiter had just asked in a rather pointed way if there was _anything else that she needed or would she like the check?_

 

Rose paid her bill and walked out, feeling as unmoored as she had that morning. Where would she go for the rest of the day? Where would she go for the rest of the _summer_?

 

***

 

It was just like her, she knew, to end up at a bookstore.

 

But the lovely Edwardian shop with the green awning caught her eye, and she couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of a cool, quiet space with rows upon rows of books to explore.

 

She was at the anatomy section flipping through a book of old muggle medical drawings — which were appropriately horrific and mesmerizing — when she spotted a familiar blond head one row over.

 

Scorpius Malfoy.

 

Rose stared, trying to wrap her mind around what Scorpius Malfoy would be doing in a muggle bookstore in the middle of the day. He’d graduated in her class, of course, but they’d never exchanged more than a few polite words throughout their years at Hogwarts.

 

And besides, Scorpius seemed determined to go unnoticed at school — scoring some of the highest marks in their class but never gloating. He was reserved, keeping mostly to himself and a few close friends. He certainly never made it to the parties that Rose went to.

 

Maybe it was the boredom or the heat. Or maybe it was the sheer shock of seeing her former classmate in such an incongruous setting, but Rose found herself waving and calling out to him before she’d even fully considered what she was doing.

 

“Oi, Malfoy!” she said, grinning when his head snapped up. “Fancy running into you here.”

 

Scorpius looked up, startled. His mouth actually opened slightly as he stared back, wide-eyed as a deer in a hunter’s crosshairs.

 

Everyone always commented on how Scorpius was such a Malfoy, but Rose thought he carried himself quite differently from his father. Whereas Draco was all severe lines and cold arrogance, Scorpius had bright, intelligent blue eyes and a kind face. His hair was darker as well — less white blond and more golden. He was, Rose admitted, one of the better-looking boys in their year.

 

“Weasley,” Scorpius finally said, regaining his composure and nodding at the book in her hand. “I see you’re preparing for St. Mungo’s. Congratulations on the fellowship, by the way. You must be thrilled.”

 

Rose set down the book and walked toward him. She tried not to giggle at the way that Scorpius widened his eyes, as though she was a dangerous predator.

 

“Thanks!” she said. “That’s so nice of you. You knew about that? I’m delighted, and it’s what I’ve always wanted, but this summer is going to be interminable. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. It’s been two weeks and I feel like I’m going insane.”

 

This was what happened when you were left alone for too long. You started babbling your feelings to Scorpius Malfoy — probably  terrifying the poor boy in the process. Rose resisted the urge to clap her hand over her mouth to stop the flow of words.

 

“I heard from Albus,” Scorpius said. “We were in a couple classes together. And I know what you mean. I have a few months before I start teaching…”

 

“Oh, you’re staying on as a professor then?” Rose tried to recall if Albus had mentioned this. “Potions, right?”

 

“Arithmancy, actually,” he said. “I’ll just be teaching first and second years to start, the easy stuff.”

 

“Well done, you,” Rose said, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder as she would any of her cousins. Scorpius flinched as her hand came up — did he _really_ think that she was going to hit him? — but gave a small, pleased smile when he realized that she was only being friendly.

 

“What are you doing in muggle London, anyway?” Rose asked. “This is the last place I’d expect to find a Malfoy, no offense.”

 

Scorpius’ brow wrinkled and his smile vanished, and Rose wished that she hadn’t brought up his family.

 

“Actually, Mum’s always telling me to explore the muggle world,” he said quietly. “She says I should learn to appreciate it, to understand why our family was so in the wrong.”

 

For a moment, Rose didn’t know what to say. All this time, she’d assumed that people like the Malfoys simply carried on living in their mansions and pretending that the muggle world didn’t exist. She imagined that Scorpius tried to forget everything that his grandparents and father had ever done. But here he was — confronting his ugly family past.

 

“That’s brave of you, Scorpius,” she said. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I brought up your family like that. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me, but I tend to talk. And sometimes when I’m babbling on, I say things I shouldn’t.”

 

Scorpius looked up, meeting her gaze.

 

“You called me Scorpius.”

 

“That’s right. And you can call me Rose.”

 

***

 

They spent another hour perusing books before Rose announced that she was starving. They found a nice place nearby that served sandwiches and pastries, and ended up splitting a slice of chocolate cake at the end.

 

Mostly, Rose talked. She regaled Scorpius with stories of growing up with a million cousins, and all the scrapes they’d get into. She told him about the time she destroyed the front door at the Burrow while flying her broom while blindfolded, and how she’d been rushed to St. Mungo’s with the door handle sticking out of her leg. Albus — who’d been the one to dare her to fly blindfolded — had been forbidden to play Quidditch for a month.

 

“Can you believe that he was cross with _me_?” she cried out indignantly. “The prat wouldn’t speak to me for weeks.”

 

Scorpius laughed, and Rose decided that he looked much nicer when he was smiling. He’d always worn such a serious, almost worried expression at school. He needed to lighten up, she decided. He needed someone to _help_ him lighten up.

 

And Rose needed a project.

 

“Say,” she said, swiping the last bite of cake from under his nose. He made a wounded noise. “I have a proposal for you, Scorpius.”

 

Immediately, that wary look returned. “Yeah?”

 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she chided, nudging his foot under the table with hers. “Here’s my idea. I’m free this summer. You’re free this summer. We’ll both be bored to tears alone, so why not spend it together?”

 

“Rose,” Scorpius said, looking simultaneously amused and exasperated. “We’re not even _friends_ and you’re proposing that we spend the next four months together.”

 

“Well I think that by the end of this summer, we’ll be great friends,” Rose said, scribbling on a piece of parchment and handing it to him. “Here’s my address. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”

 

Scorpius took the piece of paper and shook his head. “This is crazy,” he said.

 

“Oh, live a little.”

 

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  


	2. Keeping Secrets

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to become friends with Rose Weasley overnight. Scorpius had been skeptical of her idea — certain that as soon as she spent more than one afternoon with him, Rose would realize that they had nothing to talk about.

 

He’d almost told her as much, but she’d looked so bright-eyed and hopeful sitting in that restaurant. Tendrils of her hair flew around her face, and the strap of her dress kept sliding off her tanned shoulder, and Scorpius _really_ couldn’t have said no to anything she asked for in that moment.

 

So he’d showed up at her doorstep the following morning, feeling a little bit foolish when she laughed and clapped delightedly at the bouquet of marigolds he handed her.

 

“I thought it was customary whenever you were invited to someone’s home,” he said, blushing. Damn his parents and all their rules for polite society.

 

“No, they’re _lovely_ ,” she beamed, taking them from him and holding open the door. “It’s just that no one’s ever brought me flowers before, besides my parents at least. Come in.”

 

There was very little awkwardness with Rose, he soon realized. She was a whirlwind of activity and had all sorts of adventures planned for them.

 

They went on a hike, which Scorpius thought was the stupidest bloody thing he’d ever done. “What is the _point_ of this?” he panted as they proceeded up a seemingly endless incline in sweltering heat. “Why can’t we just apparate to the top?”

 

“The point isn’t the destination, it’s the journey,” Rose said. She wore these tiny shorts and a ridiculously large hat that tied underneath her chin, and didn’t look _nearly_ as sweaty and exhausted as he felt. In fact, she looked lovely. “Muggles do this for fun all the time! It’s about communing with nature.”

 

They reached the top and Scorpius did grudgingly admit that Rose was right — the view was magnificent and the picnic of cheese and bread she’d brought _did_ taste incredible after all that exertion.

 

“But we’re apparating down.”

 

“No! That’s not doing it right.”

 

“You have to compromise sometimes, Weasley.”

 

“Rose. You’re supposed to call me Rose now, remember?”

 

“ _Rose_ , I’m not walking all the way down that mountain. We’re apparating.”

 

“You’re impossible, Scorpius. Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

 

They never fought, really — just bickered good-naturedly. Scorpius found this freeing. He’d always been so careful about what he said, worried that his classmates would see him as a monstrous Death Eater if he so much as raised his voice.

 

But Rose actively needled him, and when he challenged her, she argued right back. Sometimes, she even nudged him with her shoulder. He wasn’t quite sure why, but Scorpius found himself wanting to provoke that response as much as possible.

 

***

 

One week flew by, and then another.

 

Scorpius wasn’t sure how it came to be that he’d spent every weekday for the last two weeks with Rose Weasley, but he wasn’t complaining either. They met at nine in the morning, after their parents had gone to work. They parted ways at three in the afternoon.

 

“Do your parents know that you’re hanging out with me?” he asked one day as they sat in her living room, watching muggle movies — which seemed to be all gunfire, explosions, and passionate lovemaking.

 

“No,” she said, turning to him. “Does it matter?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“I just thought it would be easier. You know, my dad would go ballistic about me spending so much time with a Malfoy — especially a _boy_ ,” she rolled her eyes. “I could never convince him that you’re harmless.”

 

 _Harmless_. Scorpius had spent his whole life trying to appear harmless, to redeem his family name. And yet, hearing the word from Rose’s lips made him deflate inside.

 

“My parents don’t know either,” he admitted. “But that’s because they don’t care to ask what I’m doing with my time.”

 

“Really?” Rose looked fascinated. “My mum’s always asking me what I’ve _learned_ today, as if I’m still in school. I have to find some topic in healing to discuss with her every single day so that she knows I’m not just letting my brain rot.”

 

“Well, my dad’s pissed off with me for going into teaching instead of something more glamorous,” he said, trying to smile wryly at her. It came out lopsided, and Rose reached over to put a hand on his knee.

 

“Scorpius Malfoy,” she said, looking into his eyes with a serious expression. “I have to tell you something.”

 

He gulped, glancing down at his knee, where her red-tipped fingers rested. “Yeah?”

 

“You’re going to be the most glamorous Arithmancy professor Hogwarts has _ever_ seen.”

 

***

 

Rose may have been able to keep a secret from her parents, but she couldn’t from Albus. He was her cousin and best friend, after all. Even if he _was_ traveling across the continent, they still exchanged letters on a weekly basis.

 

And so it was that Scorpius woke up one morning to find a disgruntled owl tapping insistently on his window. He rubbed at his eyes and pulled the window open, only to have a Howler unceremoniously dropped onto his lap before the owl took off again. He took a hold of it and saw the name _Albus Potter_ scribbled above the return address.

 

“Shit. _Shit!_ What the fuck is _this_?”

 

Scorpius was suddenly _very_ awake. He grabbed the Howler and ran into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He hoped that this would be enough to insulate the noise. His father would not be happy if he woke up to a Potter’s screaming voice.

 

Biting his lip, Scorpius edged his finger underneath the flap and closed his eyes to await the onslaught. The voice that emerged was Albus Potter’s — and he was yelling as though stuck in a snow storm.

 

_“SCORPIUS MATE, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SPENDING EVERY DAY WITH ROSE? I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT EVEN THOUGH WE’RE FRIENDLY, I WILL BE FORCED TO KILL AND DISMEMBER YOU IF YOU SO MUCH AS TOUCH A HAIR ON HER HEAD.”_

 

Quite suddenly, Albus’ voice dropped to a normal volume, and he continued in a chatty, casual manner.

 

_“Well, enough of that, eh? I’m actually not any good at this protective big brother thing, but I needed to send a clear message. Family honor and all that. I don’t think you’re a bad sort, Scorpius, but I’m protective of Rosie. Send her my love, will you?”_

 

And with that, it was all over.

 

Scorpius dropped the Howler in the wastebasket and let out a sigh of relief. Then he pushed open his bathroom door… only to find his father blocking him, dressed in a black silk robe and looking _extremely_ displeased.

 

“Son,” he said slowly. “Tell me — am I hallucinating, or did that shouting voice just say that you’ve been spending _every day_ with the Weasley girl?”

 

***

 

Rose sat down on a bench, licking a trail of strawberry ice cream before it could drip from her cone. She looked like summer personified in her lemon yellow tank top and white skirt, with a large pair of sunglasses perched atop her head.

 

“Sit down and eat your ice cream before it melts,” she said, patting the seat next to her.

 

Scorpius obeyed, although his scoop of pistachio looked a lot less appealing, especially with the weight of his father’s lecture on his mind.

 

“Why are you being so grim and gloomy?”

 

Scorpius sighed as Rose nudged him with her shoulder. “Albus sent me a Howler this morning,” he admitted. “All sorts of yelling about your honor and how I’m not to touch a hair on your head.”

 

“That git!” Rose gasped, eyes flashing with fury. “I’m going to _kill_ him. Of all the idiotic, overly protective things to do. I’m sorry, Scorpius. Was it awful? Should we send him a few right back?”

 

“I’m afraid I haven’t told you the worst part.”

 

“Oh dear. Should I be sitting down?”

 

Scorpius gave her a sideways look. “You _are_ sitting down.”

 

She just gave me a cheeky smile in response and licked her ice cream cone. The sight of her pink tongue darting out was _very_ distracting, but Scorpius strove to focus on the subject at hand.

 

“Well, my father overheard Albus’ tirade,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “And was particularly interested in the part about how we’ve been spending every day together.”

 

Comprehension dawned on Rose’s face, and the smile slipped away. “Did he forbid your continued friendship with a Weasley?” she asked, looking ferocious. “Because if so, I’ll march over to that moldy manor of his and spell everything so that it smells like cat piss.”

 

“Hey! I live in that moldy manor too, you know,” Scorpius protested, affronted by Rose’s willingness to destroy his home. “Anyway, he didn’t want me to stop spending time with you.”

 

“Then what did he want?”

 

“He wants you to come over for dinner. Tomorrow night,” Scorpius said, feeling his cheeks grow hot. Merlin, this was so embarrassing. “So that my parents can get to know you.”

 

For the first time since he’d run into her in the bookstore, Rose appeared speechless. Her face went a little pale, making the freckles on her nose even more noticeable. Scorpius wished that he hadn’t relayed his father’s message — it made him sound like some absolute _wanker_ , a little boy who needed his parents to approve of his friends before he could go on play dates.

 

“Well,” Rose finally said, her voice a bit faint. “As long as you give me the full tour of the horrid place, I suppose I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, Rose Weasley endures a formal dinner with the Malfoys. Plus, how will Ron react when he finds out his darling daughter has been eating ice cream with the enemy?


	4. Dinner with the Malfoys

Dinner with the Malfoys was, in a single word, _awkward_.

 

Rose hadn’t wanted to deal with her own parents too, and so she’d lied. She said that she was meeting with some school friends at Diagon Alley and that her parents should eat without her. Then she retreated to her room and frantically pawed through her wardrobe.

 

“What are you supposed to wear to impress a former Death Eater, anyway?” she muttered.

 

In the end, she decided on a demure green dress that flared out at the waist, with a cream cardigan to cover her arms and shoulders. It was the kind of outfit that her mother wore when she wanted to make a good impression at work. In fact, the cardigan was Hermione’s, “borrowed” from her neatly organized closet while she wasn’t looking.

 

“Bye Mum! Bye Dad!” Rose called out as she left. Then she walked down the street, turned the corner, and apparated to the gates outside of Malfoy Manor.

 

Malfoy Manor was just as imposing and well… _evil-looking_ as Rose had imagined. Even the peacocks strutting about on the manicured lawns looked as though they’d been bred to kill intruders. She told Scorpius this when he met her at the gates, and as they walked down the long driveway up to the manor.

 

“It’s better on the inside,” he assured her. “Mum’s spent the past two decades trying to make the place more livable. Thanks for coming, by the way. I know it’s not the way you’d typically choose to spend your evening.”

 

She stole another look at him. In dark pants and a crisp white collared shirt with the top two buttons undone, Scorpius was an appealing sight. Rose wasn’t _blind_ to his charms, especially with the amount of time they’d been spending together. She supposed that having some eye candy to admire during the long and restless summer was always a good thing.

 

“It’s alright,” she said. “But you owe me. Remember that.”

 

“I expected as much,” Scorpius sighed, but he didn’t look all that concerned.

 

***

 

“So you’re one of the young _Weasleys_ ,” Mr. Malfoy said when he entered the dining room. He sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his white-blond hair slicked back from his angular face. He looked rather disgusted at the mention of Rose’s family name.

 

She sat up straighter and glared. “Yes, I’m Rose Weasley,” she said. “I’m sure you know all about my parents. You were at Hogwarts together, weren’t you? They were war heroes. You were a war criminal…”

 

Scorpius and his mother - a pretty, delicate woman with impeccable eyebrows and a flawless manicure - both choked on their risotto. Rose and Mr. Malfoy both ignored their appalled coughing fits.

 

“I expected you’d be just like your mother,” Mr. Malfoy said. “A snotty little—”

 

“Dad!” Scorpius yelped, his coughing having subsided. He widened his eyes at his father. “Don’t be rude.”

 

“He’s right, Draco darling,” Mrs. Malfoy said, patting her husband’s hand. “You shouldn’t insult Scorpy’s guest. Now Rose, tell me about yourself.”

 

Rose was far too distracted by the fact that Mrs. Malfoy had referred to her son as “Scorpy” to pay attention to Mr. Malfoy’s insult about her mother. She stared at Scorpius, whose cheeks had reddened so that he looked like a cherub in a Renaissance painting. Merlin, the boy could be adorable.

 

“Well, I’m sure Scorpy has told you a bit about me already,” she said, smirking. “But I’m about to start a fellowship at St. Mungo’s and I’m really excited…”

 

***

 

After dinner, Mr. Malfoy excused himself, muttering something about business and paperwork. Mrs. Malfoy told Rose that it had been a pleasure to meet her, and that she was welcome to come over for dinner anytime.

 

Then she and Scorpius — _Scorpy_ — were left alone in the cavernous dining room. He still wouldn’t look her in the eye and jiggled his leg under the table.

 

“Scorpius,” she said, resisting the urge to use his nickname again. “Aren’t you going to give me a tour?”

 

“You don’t want to leave?” he asked, looking up with surprise. “I was sure my parents scared you off.”

 

“Your mother was delightful,” Rose said. “And your father… well, I’ve faced off with meaner blokes.”

 

Scorpius gave her a weak smile. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him,” he said. “But he can be prickly about your parents and Harry Potter. He calls them the golden trio.”

 

He led her through the living room and the sitting room and the family room, which were all dressed up in various shades of cream and ornamented with large bouquets of white roses. Mrs. Malfoy obviously had a thing for minimalism. And a thing for too many rooms.

 

Then he led her down a long hallway and opened a door. As soon as Rose stepped inside, a smile spread over her face.

 

“Oh!” she said. “It’s perfect.”

 

“Thanks,” said Scorpius, coming in and closing the door behind them both. His cheeks flushed again.

 

Unlike Malfoy Manor’s exterior (dark and foreboding) or its interior (expensive and sterile), Scorpius had made his room into a comfortable, warm haven. Two of the walls were made of built-in bookshelves that ran from the floor to the ceiling, and he had an enormous four-poster bed with forest green sheets and quilts.

 

Best of all, it had an enormous bay window with a cozy reading seat that looked out onto the woods behind the manor. Rose could just imagine spending a winter’s day curled up there with a mug of cocoa and a stack of books.

 

She crossed the room and settled down on the window seat, pulling her legs up and leaning back experimentally. The cushions were exactly the right thickness and she felt the one behind her back conform to her spine.

 

“This is fantastic!” she said. “I’m so jealous. Can I borrow your reading nook when you’re not using it?”

 

Scorpius came over and sat down next to her, his expression unreadable. “You can use it whenever you want,” he said softly. There was something in his eyes — a bright intensity that made Rose’s mouth go dry.

 

“You’re far too easy to bully,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “You should stand up to me. Otherwise, I’ll end up stealing your whole room. It really _is_ perfect, you know. Those bookshelves are giving me heart palpitations.”

 

At least she _thought_ it was the bookshelves. But as Scorpius continued to stare at her, with his face a mere six inches from hers, Rose began to second guess the reason for her pattering heart and sweaty palms.

 

“You don’t scare me,” Scorpius said, his voice low. His lips curved upward, and Rose found herself mesmerized by his mouth.

 

Why was it so interesting all of a sudden? And was it normal to hold one’s breath for this long? She wondered briefly if she would pass out if he continued to sit here, looking into her eyes. She hadn’t realized that prolonged eye contact could be so very _dangerous_.

 

Scorpius leaned in a little closer so that she could feel his breath. He looked questioningly at her, as though asking for permission, and then placed a hand softly — so softly that she could barely feel it — on her cheek.

 

Rose’s eyes fluttered closed and she leaned forward a fraction.

 

His lips met hers, first brushing over her lower lip, and then pressing more insistently. She sighed and nipped at his lower lip, and Scorpius squeaked, his mouth falling open. Rose took the opportunity to explore his mouth with her tongue.

 

She had no idea what she was doing, or why she was doing it. But all she knew was that it felt _good_ , and that she didn’t want it to end.

 

Unfortunately, it did.

 

Because at that moment, the door to Scorpius’ room burst open with a bang and an enraged Ronald Weasley charged inside, followed by an equally irate Draco Malfoy. Rose and Scorpius sprang apart, wide-eyed and flushed.

 

“OY YOU LITTLE SERPENT,” Rose’s father bellowed, his face an unhealthy shade of magenta. “GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY ROSE.”

 

Then he raised his wand, and everything went to hell.


End file.
